


Starkiller: Psychiatric Ward

by lacihparg



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluid Timelines, Heartbreak, Kylo Ren is a manwhore, all of Starkiller has issues, crackfic, hux is a nice guy, no seriously, reader to the rescue, relates to other stories, trash compactor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacihparg/pseuds/lacihparg
Summary: "In my professional opinion, General Hux, Kylo Ren is a manwhore and needs to keep it in his pants."---Inspired by Abstruseness by dilatory and Fix Your Attitude by kassanovella. Whenever original characters created by these two are mentioned, they will be credited in the first chapter they appear.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kassanovella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/gifts), [dilatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilatory/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Abstruseness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863297) by [dilatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilatory/pseuds/dilatory). 



By all accounts, the First Order is a well-oiled machine. Its stormtroopers are silent and efficient, its generals unmatched, its Knights a black source of order. But even in the most professional settings, the commanders and the knights, the engineers and workers are just human.

That’s where you come in.

You, First Order psychiatrist, the one woman against the horrors that plague even the brightest brains. Minus the ‘troopers, of course. But man, did you ever itch to get to interview just _one_ of them. Think of the science! 

You touch down on Starkiller Base with a bit of apprehension in your mind, because holy _shit_ was this place cold. And big. But mostly cold. Coming from one of the Outer Rim planets did nothing to prepare you for the snowstorm of ice that was Starkiller. But you didn’t mind it too much.

Because science.

“Welcome to Starkiller, doctor,” a ‘trooper greets you. “This way to the Command Center.” You walk behind the man (woman?) in white and stare around you in as much awe as you can, impressed by the sharp steps of squadrons that walk by you and the impeccable metal walls. And floors. And ceilings. You begin to sense a pattern.

The walk to the Command Center is long, you realize, about about twenty minutes of marching with your Stormtrooper escort. You hoist your duffel bag up on one shoulder and hang onto the strap tightly, but before too much longer the two of you stop in front of two gleaming metal doors.

“The doctor has arrived to see General Hux,” your ‘trooper intones. The two guards let the two of you through without another word. You step through the archway into a command center bustling with more white ‘troopers, all headed up by a ginger man in black and a chrome ‘trooper.

“Reporting to General Hux, sir,” you say, standing at attention behind the man in black. He turns to face you, a grim line set into his mouth.

“Your job is to determine what is making my people work at less than optimum capacity,” he growls. You nod slowly, hoping that maybe you’d get more information out of him. “Our medbay leader and our newly appointed chief engineer are both suffering from a distinct lack of work ethic. I want to know why. They will not report to me, and while the engineer has friends, they won’t give me any answers.”

You wonder what kind of a general can’t get answers from his people, but you say nothing. “Of course, sir. Do you have a space where I can work?” He nods.

“GL-1842 here will show you to your office. The doctor will meet with you within the hour. Dismissed.” You salute again and follow your escort, whose number you now know, back down the metal maze. You stop at another door, just outside the medbay if the scent of sterile tools is any hint, and it opens to your hand.

“Everything you need is in here, doctor. Your quarters are in the door in the back. Should you have any questions, there are contact links on your datapad.” GL-1842 salutes then marches back down the hallway.

You walk into your new office and plop your bag down with a grin. First, you are on Starkiller. Second, the Supreme Leader himself authorized your transfer to figure out what was wrong with his people. Third, you never failed at your job. This shouldn’t be difficult at all.

Over the next hour, you investigate the quarters to find them small, but still more comfortable than that blasted outer planet. You at least had your own room and ‘fresher, and it wasn’t a sonic shower. Real water. It was a luxury you hadn’t felt since med school. Your office is also small, a single desk and chair with another chair facing it.

You giggle to yourself at trying to requisition a sofa and a potted plant so it looked more like the offices on the old holovids that would sneak around the med school intranet, but it was a request you knew would be denied. Instead, you decide to ask for a small shelf to place the few hard copy texts you brought with you and a wall-mounted screen for displaying any relevant digital information from your files.

Note made, you sat back at your desk and waiting for this medbay doctor to enter your domain.

A small knock at the door has you standing and allowing entrance. A young woman walks through, all nerves and curiosity. 

“I was told to report to this office?” You give her a warm smile and gesture for her to sit down.

“You’re not in trouble,” you say, sitting behind your desk and taking out your pad and stylus. “We’re just going to have a conversation.” You can tell by the grimace that flashes across her face that conversations like this normally don’t go well. “Your work standards have fallen over the past few months, dear. Now, doctor to doctor, we both know that isn’t a good thing. We save people’s lives. They’re counting on you.”

You skimmed over her file in the few minutes you had left to yourself after unpacking. “You’ve done good work. You saved the leader of the Knights of Ren. You know what is wrong with a patient by just smelling them, rumor has it. You’re good at your job, doctor, and I have no desire to see you removed from your position or transferred to another base.” The mention of a transfer makes her freeze. You wonder why. “I just want to know what I can do to help you maintain that exemplary level of performance that got you where you are in the first place.”

There’s a small bit of distrust in her eyes, but you’re used to that. For all she knew, you could be collecting dirt on her to report back to General Hux about her failings. Which, well, you kinda were. But not exactly at the same time. You genuinely did want to help, just like you wanted to help everyone you talked to.

“It actually started with Commander Ren,” she whispers. You nod, waiting for her to finish. “He was a horrible patient, all distrustful and not actually listening to what he needed to do to get better. I started to wonder if maybe him acting up was making the rest of my patients act up, and I lost my focus.”

A difficult patient. You’ve have plenty of those yourself, and your gut was telling you she was going to be one, too. Your personal joke is that patients required patience. It was a mantra you’d have to repeat to yourself many times over.

“How many months has it been since you first treated the Commander?” you ask, ticking another note on your datapad. You’ve heard the rumors of Kylo Ren, Commander of the Knights of Ren. Volatile at best, monster at worst. Walls, doors, vid screens, ships, _people_ ruined by the business end of his lightsaber because the man had a temper tantrum.

You make a note to see if Commander Ren is need of your services.  
The doctor across from you shrugs. “I guess like three or four months? Maybe?” The uncertainty in her voice worries you. “The Supreme Leader had me reassigned after I treated him anyways, so I lost track of the days.”

“Why were you reassigned?” She freezes.

“Uh… He kinda made me the Commander’s personal doctor.” It all comes out in a rush and it’s only because you are very practiced at understanding mumbling do you make some sense of the mush that’s left her mouth.

“So now you work with Commander Ren on a regular basis?” It’s an honest question, you think, but the beet red blush that takes over her face makes you wonder what button you pushed and if you can get her to trust you enough to reveal it.

“Yes,” she squeaks out. You nod encouragingly.

“Perhaps extended exposure to the man who unsettled you in the first place hasn’t helped you regain your composure,” you suggest, writing the thought down on your pad. She shakes her head violently.

“I can’t leave him.” The thought panics her and she seems almost ready to bolt from the room. You lean back in your chair and hold your hands up in surrender.

“It was just a suggestion, my dear,” you explain. “That’s what I’m here for. To give a neutral opinion and offer you suggestions you might not normally get. Why don’t you come back here in about a week and we’ll talk some more, okay?”

She nods shakily and leaves, heading back to wherever it is her office is. You shrug and compile some notes from the session.

She thinks the Commander is the reason for her lackluster performance, yet doesn’t want to leave him. In fact, the thought seems to scare her senseless. She doesn’t keep track of normal hours while working with him. Maybe General Hux could shed some light on what her exact duties are? It was something she’d have to pursue.

Now then. The engineer. The other woman whose less-than-ideal performance made General Hux worry. Something about her having friends? You’d have to look into talking with them, too. But, the engineer. Promoted to chief engineer, which the general made sound like it was the position she’d been dying to get for ages. You would have to ask around, maybe see what the base gossip was saying about these people.

You realized things were much, much worse.

\---

When you first ate in the cafeteria for mess, no one sat by you. No one knew you. But one young medbay doctor who had apparently seen his former boss slide into your office had put two and two together and came to sit with you.

“I’m Urdo,” he says by way of greeting. “I saw you had an interview earlier?”

You took that to mean the doctor. You nod. “Kind of? I’m just having conversations with people around the base.” You shrug it off. “Not trying to take anyone’s place or anything.” He grins and digs into the protein slop with gusto.

“It’s a new face; we’re actually all curious. Did you just get to Starkiller?” You nod again.

“Touched down about twelve hours ago.” His eyes bug out.

“Wow, and already down to work! You must be the General’s new favorite!”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, for some reason people have been slacking off around base. We’ve had to treat more people for punishments in the past few months than we have in the past year.” Urdo frowns around the hard bread roll. “Look, a few of us have ideas, but…”

You spoon a bit of the gruel into your mouth and shrug. “I just hope I’ll fit in here.” He laughs.

“You’ll do just fine. See you around!” He waves as he walks towards the trash compactor to drop off his empty tray -- seriously, how did he eat this stuff? -- and leaves the mess hall.

You watch the other groups of people in the hall and are surprised to find there aren’t any ‘troopers. You wonder why. It’s not like they were lesser beings in the base. In fact, they were pretty much vital to the daily function of the base. The First Order employed non-stormtroopers in more specialized positions, like engineers, doctors, and communications, but otherwise the food, sanitation, and general maintenance was handled by droids and ‘troopers alike. You certainly didn’t consider them less, but maybe other people did? It was something to consider.

Your former post was working with people damaged by the war with the Resistance in one of the First Order controlled planets. You rarely worked with ‘troopers and didn’t think anything of them until you got your reassignment orders to Starkiller. And now, with a new masked puzzle in front of you to crack, you couldn’t help but sink your proverbial claws into them.

The rest of your first week on Starkiller was spent allocating items for your office. After that first meeting with the doctor, you managed to get the shelf for your books, the screen for your projection, and a shiny red First Order insignia to hang on the wall. The last thing you asked for was a curtain, preferably in black or red, to create a slightly softer interior. Surprisingly, it was granted. You stood in the center of your happy little corner and felt accomplished. One wall held only the door, and on the wall closest to your desk and chair hung the black curtain. Behind you was the shelf and the screen on the same wall as the door to your room, and lastly the insignia hung on the last wall. 

It wasn’t home (you hadn’t had one in a long time), but it would do. You woke up the next morning to General Hux requesting your presence in the command center again. You had a feeling it was less of a request and more of a demand, but either way you made your way across the base to the gleaming metal doors in record time.

“Here to see General Hux,” you inform the guards. You don’t know if they’re the same ones from last week, but either way you don’t try to make small talk. They lead you to his office this time and you salute at the entrance.

“Have a seat,” he says, and you take a seat in the small chair across from his desk. The office is sparse, the only decoration being a red symbol like the one on your wall. His desk is black, the chairs are black, but two silver data pads are docked side-by-side in the center.

“You wished to see me, General?” you ask, hoping he’d bring up the reason for your visit.

“I’d like a report on your findings.” 

“Well, I haven’t met with the doctor since that first day, and I have yet to see the engineer.” The look on the general’s face makes you realize that was not a good entrance and you hold up a hand to silence him. “May I explain, please?”

“The First Order expects quick results. Please explain your failure to provide those.”

You suppress a sigh and an eye roll. These commanders never understood the nuances of the mind arts. “With all due respect, sir, these things take time. I am a stranger just come to the base. The people you ask me to meet with do not know me. For all they know, I am a plant told to report their dirty secrets to the Supreme Leader to weed out any weaknesses in the First Order.” You hold your hands up in surrender at his look. “Which I know I essentially am. But in my opinion, the people you have here are spectacular at their job. Neither of those women would have been promoted if they weren’t. Something has made them stop performing. They’re not going to tell me in the first session.

“I have to establish rapport, a relationship with them before they’ll tell me anything. You said the engineer’s friends know. Well, why do you think they know? She trusts them, so she tells them things. I don’t want to pry the details from your people, I want them to trust me and know that I’m here to help.” 

“The Supreme Leader doesn’t have the time it would take for you to infiltrate their confidence,” General Hux says. You can’t help but snort.

“I don’t need to become their best friend. I’m a therapist. A psychiatrist. Talking is what I do. And the more the people of this base see me in the mess hall, in the hallways, working alongside them like any other technician, the more they’ll open up.”

General Hux looks thoughtful. “We’ll call you our conversationalist,” he finally decides. “Therapist has a bad ring to it. But if you’re just here for conversation, it’s not as bad.” You nod helpfully.

“That sounds wonderful, sir. I appreciate the title change.” The general looks like he’s about to say something, but the doors _whoosh_ open and he glares at the interruption for a split second before his expression changes into some sort of grudging respect. You turn to look at the newcomer before standing and snapping to attention. “Commander Ren,” you say, arm at your heart.

“I have need of you, General Hux,” the masked man says, ignoring you completely. Internally you frown, but you get it. You’re just a lowly doctor who talks to people. The commander of the Knights of Ren has no need for you.

“Stay here,” General Hux tells you before striding out the door. Kylo Ren turns his head towards you and you can feel his gaze on you. There’s a distinct pressure at the base of your neck before it disappears as soon as he turns away from you. You sink into the chair as soon as the doors shut.

Kylo Ren was in your head.

If you didn’t have such a huge headache from the minor intrusion, you’d be furious. So much for patient privacy. The people you talk to should be able to rest knowing that what you hear never reaches gossip mills, never passes your lips, and stays locked in your brain and you data pads. But when someone can just come along and rip those thoughts right out of your head? Not cool.

The doors open once again and you stand to attention as General Hux enters his office again. Kylo Ren turns to face you and you stare up at his mask, dwarfed by his presence.

“If you think that gossiping is one of my hobbies, you’d be sorely mistaken,” he intones before leaving in a flurry of cape. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and although your body wants nothing more than to sit, you wait for General Hux to take his seat again before you collapse into the chair.

Running a hand through your hair, you sigh.

“Is there a problem, doctor?” The general sounds genuinely worried, like something might be there that hinders your ability to perform your job. Which there kind of is. You wave a hand back at the doors.

“My patients should be able to rest secure knowing that what they tell me doesn’t leave my head or my encrypted data pads. However, when someone is able to get through one of those defenses and take their personal information right out of my head…” you trail off. 

General Hux nods. “Understood. I will speak to him about your privacy.” You shook him a grateful look. “You’ll have a door plaque installed outside your office overnight. Go back to your quarters. The first time he reads you takes a lot out of you.” He dismisses you and you wander back to your rooms in a bit of a daze.

So that’s the great Kylo Ren.


End file.
